Guilt by Innocence
by newyorkace
Summary: These cascading events in life cause a domino effect, and in the end we can only hope the outcome is everything we could ever wish for. Filling the gaps from Aliyah through post-Reunion. TIVA FINALLY COMPLETE
1. Three

This was originally supposed to be posted in my collection, The Long Road to Love, but I thought this two-piece set was deserving of its own separate story. It is centered on the thoughts of the characters right as Gibbs and Tony leave Ziva in Tele Aviv. This chapter will be from Tony's POV, and the second will be from Ziva's POV. The lyrics are there to guide my thoughts and for inspiration, feel free to skip them if you feel like it. Please read and review; your thoughts are always sincerely appreciated. Enjoy! -Ash

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, Michael Weatherly or Tony DiNozzo although if I could find a guy like them I would certainly claim them as mine. I also do not own "What Hurts the Most" by Rascal Flatts.

* * *

_I know if I could do it over  
I would trade, give away all the words that I saved in my heart  
That I left unspoken. What hurts the most, is being so close  
And having' so much to say and watching you walk away  
And never knowing what could've been _

_And not seeing that loving' you  
Is what I was trying to do._

_-"What Hurts the Most" by Rascal Flatts

* * *

_

**Part 1: Three**

_Boss, one short?_

Three words settle among the silence that befalls three men. Three words that form both a question and a statement depending on who is interpreting them. Three words that leave his mouth three seconds after his boss boards the plane. Three words that explain that she will not be taking her rightful spot beside him. Three words that echo in his mind while his other half is left behind in the jet stream.

That left three agents aboard the plane, headed back to NCIS headquarters, to explain those three words to the three other agents who had not made the journey. Those three words would halt whatever story Ducky was in the middle of reminiscing. He can see the blank, dumbfound look that falls onto McGee's face and how he will stare at her empty desk; one abandoned desk, amongst three occupied ones. The tears that are bound to cloud Abby's dark eyes are too much from his to bear, and the plane hasn't even left the Tele Aviv airspace yet. For the third time their close-knit team had suffered another loss; first Kate, then Jenny, and now Ziva, each loss coming at almost exactly a year apart. That doesn't even account for Gibb's retirement and being further fractured by Vance's own agenda last year, splitting the team in three different directions. One could question how many more blows their thick skins could take. But this time, this was different. This time the only one to blame was him.

Because he couldn't mind his own business, for his curiosity forever gets the best of him. Because he had poked, prodded and pushed more that he should have; more that he had the right to. Because he had stopped trusting her. Because she had stopped trusting him. But most of all, because he cared too much and she just didn't understand that.

He should have known better than to interfere in her personal life. Instead of merely teasing her in their normal jest, he insisted on investigating. He should have known when to relent when it came to her mysterious boyfriend, her weekend trip to Tele Aviv just weeks after returning to D.C, and the uncharacteristic lunch breaks. For once in his life, he should have listened to McGee but he had been so caught up in the mystery of what she was hiding; so he had continued to snoop where he didn't belong. He should have let her have her freedom. She was free to date whomever she pleased, without him knowing every detail; hell, he had done it with Jeanne.

However, he had not given her that courtesy. The part of him that knows her not only as his partner, but as the woman who has become his best friend cared too much to let her keep her secrets. Especially ones as destructive as everyone knows knew they were. So as much as he would like to say he would have done things differently, he knows he would have made each calculated move all over again.

Because he is her partner. Because, despite what she said earlier today, it is his job to protect her. Lord knows she doesn't need defending, but it doesn't change the fact that he would lay his life down for he in a split second. Because he wouldn't lie to her, even to save his worthless ass. Because he would risk his job for her; he did it once and he would do it a hundred times over again.

But it is for all these same reasons that she won't be coming back to Washington D.C. with him. It is for all these reasons that she isn't sitting beside him at this very moment. Maybe if he had been able to explain his feelings, his motives, and his actions better things would be different. Maybe if she wasn't so stubborn she might have listened with an open ear. But things aren't different. He cares too much, his actions blinded by love, and she is simply blinded by the hurting to understand it.

So here he sits, one of three agents, on a flight back to D.C; three words echoing in the silence, guilt by innocence weighing on his heart.

* * *

A/N: Please let me know what you thought. This took a lot of time, and I'm still not sure it turned out just right.


	2. Hurt

This chapter had a mind of its own so I just let it take me. I personally really enjoyed writing this one, and I hope you enjoy it. This is Ziva's POV during the second to last scene in Aliyah. Once again, the lyrics are there to influence my muse and just set the tone for the chapter; not necessarily important to read through.

I know I mentioned this so some readers, but this story will now span from Aliyah to post-Reunion and the bathroom conversation.

Disclaimer: No ties to CBS, NCIS or Darius Rucker.

* * *

_I left out in a cloud of taillights and dust  
Swore I wasn't coming back, said I'd had enough  
Saw you in the rear view standing, fading from my life  
But I wasn't turnin' 'round  
No not this time_

_But don't think I don't think about it  
Don't think I don't have regrets  
Don't think it don't get to me  
Between the work and the hurt and the whiskey  
Don't think I don't wonder 'bout  
Could've been, should've been all worked out  
I know what I felt, and I know what I said  
But don't think I don't think about it_

_-"Don't Think I Don't Think About It" by Darius Rucker

* * *

_

**Hurt**

She has been through a lot in her four years at NCIS. She has shot her brother, while proving her loyalty to Gibbs; been accused of murdering a drug dealer; been scarred by a close call with sexual assault; lost one of her best friends; and now her boyfriend and lover has been shot by the man she knows as her partner.

However, in four years, she has learned far more than she could ever have been through. It is easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. Saying sorry is a sign of weakness. Never take things for granted. Never be unreachable. She had learned that there is a specific spot on the right side of the vending machine that yields free snacks. Some things are inevitable and soul mates do exist. Gibbs doesn't like to be called Sir, and Abby had a soft spot for classical music.

But amongst all this new found knowledge, she has just failed to follow through on the biggest lesson learned: choose your words carefully, and think before you speak.

X

Her slender, yet calloused hands grip the steering wheel tightly. The sand-crusted, middle-eastern wind whips sharply against her toned skin as she speeds fast, moving father from the tarmac. She wills herself not to look in the rear-view mirror, afraid to face the reality of what she just walked away from. Only giving in to the pull when she knows she will no longer be able to see their plane, no longer able to witness the last four years of what had been her life fade into the distance.

She is angry; she has every right to be. The one person she had come to trust with her life, and maybe even her heart, had shot and killed her childhood friend. And they hadn't even hit the forty-eight hour mark yet. Grieving is a process and she is still in the middle of it. She has every right to be angry, mad, frustrated, and pissed at the world.

The problem is she isn't any of those things. More than anything, she is hurt. Hurt that she has suddenly lost the only person remaining from her past. It burns that Michael's life had been take by someone just as close to her. To know that Tony hadn't trusted her enough, that hurt. The fact that he didn't have a good enough explanation for his actions, made the hurt worse. Knowing that not only did she lose Michael as her lover, but losing Tony as her best friend was unbearable.

Instead of confessing to the damage done to her heart and emotions, she feigned anger to deal with the hurt. To make herself feel better she lashed out at him directly and indirectly. Never before had she imagined pinning a gun to his chest, but she did; and although, she regretted it instantly, he would never know that. Never before had she thought she'd utter the words that said she could not trust him, but she did.

In that moment she spoke without thinking, defying the number one lesson she had learned in four years. And that moment is one she fears she may always regret, as she watched the airport fade from view. It's not that she doesn't trust Anthony DiNozzo. She simply cannot trust herself to trust him.

* * *

Next Up: Chapters 3 and 4 will be post-Truth and Consequences


	3. Tuesday

It's not often that I get to spend the day relaxing, but that is what I am doing on this lovely weekend before college. And so I write…

Once again, I lied. The next 4 chapters will be related to 7x01, but this chapter and chapter 4 will be set before Ziva is rescued. I just watched the episode again, and I really wanted to tie this chapter in with the emotions Tony is seen going through (but with my own little twist).

And huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last first two chapters! Your comments let me know it's worth it! A nod also goes out to Betherzz who brought the inspiring lyrics for this chapter to my attention.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, any of its characters, or the lyrics to "What She's Doing Now" by Garth Brooks.

* * *

_There's somethin' 'bout this time of year  
That spins my head around  
Takes me back makes me wonder  
What she's doin' now_

_'Cause what she's doin' now is tearin' me apart  
Fillin' up my mind and emptyin' my heart  
I can hear her call each time the cold wind blows  
And I wonder if she knows...what she's doin' now._

_-"What She's Doing Now" by Garth Brooks

* * *

_

**Tuesday**

As he checks his cell phone for the twentieth time in an hour, he can feel the set of eyes that are watching him carefully. Like always, he simply acts like he is unaware that McGee is giving him that look again. The one that is laced with question, pity, and sometimes even a little understanding; it is now an unwavering trademark glance that Tony receives every Tuesday from the junior agent.

Because if it were a normal Tuesday, his phone would ring and she would be on the other end, impatiently waiting for his lunch order. It was their little ritual. Every Tuesday morning, she would stop at their favorite café, the one on 13th and Madison Ave, and buy lunch. But today wasn't another normal Tuesday. He hadn't experienced an ordinary Tuesday in two months. It has been that long since those three fateful words had changed his entire life; two months since she had failed to board that plane departing from Tele Aviv. Two long, crazy, assassin-less months had passed since she had simply walked out of his life. And every Tuesday, as he stares aimlessly at his phone while waiting for a phone call that will probably never come, he wonders what she's doing now.

For the greater half of his time without her, he assumes that Daddy dearest has her up to her neck in some crazy Mossad mission. Tony knows her well enough to discern that it may have even been her idea. It would be just like her to be steadfast and throw herself into her work, exerting her anger onto her target. She always did have an interesting way of dealing with her emotions. Personally, he doesn't like tossing around the idea that she is half-way across the world throwing herself into dangerous situations. At least while she was working with NCIS, he had an idea of where she was and what she was working on; he could protect her. But he laughs off the idea of protecting her; his overwhelming need and obligation to keep her had backfired big time, as it is a key factor in why he sits here, every Tuesday, pondering the possibilities of what she's doing.

On the occasional Tuesday, he contemplates whether he ever crosses her mind; whether she too misses their Tuesday lunches as much he does. He wonders if she ever misses the feeling of real teamwork, the type that their dysfunctional NCIS family creates. Maybe she misses taking part in Tony's crazy shenanigans; the ones in which McProbie is almost always the unsuspecting victim. She might even miss his stupid pop culture references and her front row seat to watch him get Gibb-slapped every day. And when it comes down to it, she may just simply miss him.

He always dismisses that theory though, because if she did miss him, the team, or life at NCIS she would have called by now. There would have been a phone call, telegram, postcard, smoke signal, or something. But there hasn't been anything. Every Tuesday he waits, expecting something, and there are no new messages appearing on his screen. So he chalks it up to the fact that the damage done two months ago is still an open wound, as she still hasn't forgiven him yet.

But today is Tuesday, and he can no longer chalk it up to his misdoings. Today is like any of the past eight Tuesdays, there is still no phone call and still no Ziva, but at the same time it's not. Today is the first Tuesday that Tony stares at his phone waiting like always, but Gibbs' voice echoes in the back of his mind. _It was lost at sea. Damacles went down on the 28__th__ of May off the coast of Somalia. There were no survivors._

He has spent the past week and a half with the prospective reality that Gibbs' words create, festering in his head. It has been a mind-numbing, boggling distraction that has thrown him off of his usually smooth game. Although everyone else believes it to be true, he can't accept it. Tony refuses to believe that his partner, headstrong and driven, simply gave way to a sinking ship. It's so not Ziva. And it is so not like Very Special Anthony DiNozzo to just sit back and let this situation unravel before him.

So he sits back in his chair, giving his cell phone one last glance, and looks up at his boss who just entered the bullpen.

"Grab your gear," Gibbs barks as he reaches beside his own desk to pick up his backpack.

Rising up from his chair, Tony utters the one word he should have said a week and a half ago. "No."


	4. Weathered

This one is Ziva's POV while imprisoned. It's TIVA, but a good part of it is just her dealing with the emotions involved in being held captive and enduring the torture. I hope it flows along well with the other chapters. Enjoy!

PS…Thanks to everyone who have favorite'd, alert'd, and reviewed for this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or the song by Lifehouse.

* * *

_How long have I been in this storm,  
so overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form.  
Water's getting harder to tread,_

_With these waves crashing over my head._

_Barely surviving has become my purpose,  
because I'm so used to living underneath the surface._

_-"Storm" by Lifehouse

* * *

_

**Weathered**

She has always been good at compartmentalizing when it comes to situations like these. It is a concept, a way of living, which was drilled into her when she was just a young child. One's emotions are the enemy, and can be more dangerous and threatening that any opponent. This is one of the first lessons she learned in Mossad. When completing a mission you are to cut all personal ties, stay rigid and cold; forget all emotions and focus on the task at hand. Ziva David has always been an expert at this, even after all these years.

Sometimes she wonders, though, whether her time in American has softened her. She knows the answer is yes, because as she sits slumped in a rickety chair with her hands bound in back she can feel her already weathered resolve begin to crack. In the back of her mind, a nagging voice that resembles that of her father tells her to stay focused. She may be imprisoned, her mission in shambles, and her hope dwindling but she needs to concentrate on staying alive. If she can stay emotionally detached, and abandon all feeling, she might have a chance to get out of this hell alive. Forcing herself to become numb to the pain of every infliction would allow her to save her strength to break herself free. Her mind should be focused solely on saving herself; but it's not.

Instead she lets her once focused mind dwell on the people she left, unceremoniously, behind. The ones she didn't get the chance to say goodbye to, to apologize to, or to love. She is not afraid to admit that this fact scares her. The thought that she may not make it out of here alive scares her to death; because her death would leave all these needed words left unspoken. She would never get to tell Abby how much she loves her; that through her, she found the sister she had lost so many years ago. She would never get to tell Ducky just how much those quiet nights down in autopsy and long conversations over hot cups of tea meant to her when she had first joined the team. She'd never get to Gibb-slap Palmer for willingly becoming Tony's apprentice. She would never again be the receiver of a Gibb-slap, or get to tell Gibbs the entirety of the impression he has made of her life; as a mentor, friend, and father-figure. McGee would never again be the innocent victim of a prank she pulled, or an innocent bystander when Tony was her target.

And then there was Tony, the one person she has tried her hardest not to think about because the recent incidents surrounding them are part of the reason she is here now. But as hard as she tries, she cannot stop her mind, and her heart, from going there. As much as his killing Michael still hurts, she is very aware of how much more painful it is going to be if she doesn't get the chance to say goodbye to Tony; or even more, not getting the opportunity to truly explore the possibility that is their more than platonic partnership. There are so many things she wants to tell him: that she is sorry for not trusting him, for not trusting herself; that she loves his smile, his charming grin; that she absolutely adores and admires his random pop-culture knowledge; that she knows that what he referred to his knee was not actually his knee, no matter how convincing he sounded; that he is a gifted man, a born leader; that she loves his cooking. And most of all, she needs to tell him that she wants to find out, needs to find out whether this thing between them is inevitable; if it's love. She never got to find out with Michael, and she'll be damned if she lets the same opportunity with Tony pass her by.

But she knows there is a very good chance she will not make it beyond these four walls alive. That all these confessions will go with her to the grave. And that causes the rare tears to fall.

She is battered and bruised, bleeding from places she never imagined before. The pain she is enduring from these endless beatings is more than she has ever experienced. She has been locked up, in the middle of nowhere, for God knows how long. The physical and emotional torment that she has endured, alongside the constant darkness she is surrounded by has made her lose count of the days; her mind says months but her body feels like it has been years.

And she has suffered through it all because she cannot keep her emotions in check. Instead of focusing on herself and telling these people what they want to know, she is expending what little energy she has left lying. Lying to protect the ones she loves; the ones who taught her how to care; the ones who would weather any storm to save her; the ones that weathered her; the ones she is afraid she will never get to say goodbye to.


	5. Sometimes Wrong is Right

**A/N:** I'm sorry it's been so long for this update. But college started and I swear that in the past month I have spent too much time in the library. Nursing majors have no life.

So please accept my apologies and enjoy the chapter. It's a different kind of format but the song really inspired the way I wrote it. And those who have listened to the whole song will be able to understand. Takes place on the plane back to Washington during T&C.

Sincerely,

Me

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS or "Before She Does" by Eric Church

* * *

_There's absolutely positively no doubt in my mind_  
_That O.J. did it, Lee Harvey didn't and she's really gone this time_

_I believe she was a real good thing_  
_Can you believe I let a girl like her get away_  
_I believe she meant it the night she packed_  
_And said Jesus is comin' back_  
_Before she does_

_-"Before She Does" by Eric Church

* * *

_

**Sometimes Wrong is Right**

There are a lot of things Anthony DiNozzo never thought he'd see in his lifetime.

Gibbs get married a fifth time.

Or divorced a fifth time.

Ducky switch from the usual bow tie to a more average one, similar to the one's Tony and McGee wore.

Abby dressed in pastels.

Country music playing in the labby.

Vance without that damn toothpick.

McGee without a virtual life.

McGee without the title of "Elf Lord".

Gibbs and Fornell have a pleasant conversation at work, that took place in a conference room instead of the elevator.

Franks come back to NCIS for a legitimate visit, instead of looking for trouble.

Gibbs quit again.

Gibbs retire.

Senior without a different girlfriend every week.

Going a day without a Gibb-slap.

A day where the Gibbs' rules didn't exist.

The list could go on and on. But in the past two months, there has been one thing that he has feared he'd never see again, and the idea haunted him. It left him preoccupied, uncoordinated and at times unresponsive to the world around him. This mere thought and everything that it enveloped, left him debilitated and he can't image what may have happened had it been a reality.

Anthony DiNozzo never thought he'd see her again.

But here in a situation that felt a lot like déjà vu, he is aboard a priority flight headed back to Washington, D.C. And this time it is four agents instead of three. She is sitting right next to him, as close and as real as she has ever been. In this moment, he knows that he will never take her for granted again.

Never before has it felt so right to be wrong.


	6. Clarity

**A/N:** Here is the 6th chapter. And after I finished writing it, I realized that it probably should have gone before Tony's POV based on time wise. But because they are separated by POV it doesn't make too much of a difference. And this one took me longer to write because I really wanted to put real, raw emotion into it.

Just as a review, this is in Ziva's POV in T/C after McGee and Tony walk her out of the building where she was being kept.

And this story will run through and past the epic bathroom conversation. Just please, bear with me. It is fall break write now so I hope to get a lot of writing done in the two days I have off from school. And the Yankees just won the ALDS so I don't have baseball to watch until Friday. So plenty of time to write!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS of "Bruised and Scarred" by Mayday Parade. Although I do love them both to pieces!

* * *

_This was supposed to be the easy part, but breaking down is what I found hard_  
_Now I'm wearing this smile that I don't believe in_  
_Inside I feel like screaming._

_-"Bruised and Scarred" by Mayday Parade_

* * *

**Clarity**

She shouldn't be here. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. For the past two months, she's been secluded to a dark room that only allowed her enough room to lie down uncomfortably. The only time she spent outside of that, was when being shuffled to a similar, but larger room to withstand further interrogation. Enveloped by the dry heat, sweat had poured from her skin and left the air drenched with a stale odor, made worse by the stench of her captors. She had spent day after day, week after week accepting the brutality that was handed to her. The suffrage she endured had been so intense that her body had shut down to any feeling; mentally and emotionally she had grown numb to every blow, to the point she could not, would not feel a thing.

Instead, she can feel every palpation and each invasion of the needle on her skin as the paramedic tries to patch up the wounds that are scattered across her body. Even the soft wind hits her face like a parade of pins, causing her to cringe. The hurried voices conversing outside the vehicle where she sits pierce her ears, which have been isolated from any noise besides the low voices of her captors. Fresh air floods slowly her lungs with every new and free breath she takes, flushing out the stale, hard matter that had been her previous source of oxygen.

Everything hits her at once, and the drastic change in environmental circumstances attacks each one of her senses. It makes her dizzy, light-headed, and nauseous. It she wasn't sitting, she is sure her knees would give way to the heavy load that has become her body. And for a moment she wishes she could hit rewind. She closes her eyes and hopes that, when she opens them, she is back in that tiny room and numb to whole world. Not because it was enjoyable, but because it was easier. She had come to terms with what she assumed would be her end. It was not this.

This is going to be harder than the worst option. The average person would say that she has made it through the worst, but she knows better than that. What lies ahead of her, the relationships she must repair and the trauma she must cope with, scares her than death. At least she had been prepared for that. The woman she was before could handle either outcome, but she is a different person now, one wracked with guilt and emotional bruises.

She doesn't trust her altered personality, which is ironic when all things considered because she hadn't trusted herself before.

And as she wrestles with her emotional instability, the paramedic ceases all patchwork and applies the last bandage. McGee has since joined her, and offers her an arm as they walk towards the fueled plane. It is only then that she first makes eye contact with the man she had been running away from. Her eyes only meet his for a moment before she breaks their stare, but it is all she needs. Because that moment provides all the clarity and reassurance she need. She is meant to be alive; here in this moment, headed back to Washington, headed back with him, headed back to him.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are always appreciated with any comments, concerns, questions, and criticism. But ultimately, I just thank you for taking the time to read it!


	7. Facade Part I

**A/N:** This upload is in celebration of tonight's episode…so much TIVA cuteness! :)

Only 3 more chapters to go! This one's Tony's POV, and takes place after they get back to Washington, but before the confrontation in the bathroom and before Abby basically puts Ziva in her place.

And as a special note, the lyrics selected for this chapter and the next really played a pivotal role in my writing of these two parts. Usually, I say you could simply pass them by, but this time I'm asking you to at least take a quick look at them.

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own NCIS, because if I did Tony and Ziva would make pretty babies. And I also lay no claim to "She's Gonna Make It" by Garth Brooks._  


* * *

He followed her to work this morning  
He'd never seen that dress before  
And she seemed to sail  
Right through those dark clouds formin'  
That he knows he's headed for…_

_She's gonna make it and he never will._

"_She's Gonna Make It"- Garth Brooks

* * *

_

**Façade (Part I)**

He's diligently working on his computer, fingers aggressively meeting the keyboard. The ultimate goal is to stay on track with McGee's rather efficient work ethic this week, and continue to be one step ahead of Gibbs when it comes to the current case. This is what it has boiled down to in these few passing weeks. The dedication he is showing to his work is increasingly shocking, and the sarcastic comments are considerably low key these days. However sensible these distractions are, it still doesn't help him attain the ultimate goal.

Because he can still feel her presence a mile away. Like right now, the pitter patter of shoes climbing the steps behind him could be mistaken for any average person but he knows better. That is the sure sound of her tennis shoes, barely making any sound as they connect with each carpeted step due to her well trained background. Her unique perfume invades his surroundings and her voice penetrates the conversations taking place in the bullpen, piercing his ears and heart. His ability to zone in on everything her is a type of spidy-sense that even Toby McGuire's Peter Parker would envy.

He turns to look in her direction once he knows she has turned her back to him, headed in for another meeting with Vance. Normally he'd call out to her, make a witty remark and he'd earn a dazzling smile; but normal was not what it had been before she'd left, before he'd let her walk away. Now, normal was concocted of passing hellos, awkward silences, and forced conversations. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time they had a real conversation; one the flowed easily and enveloped the chemistry they had once shared with ease. Since they had gotten back from Africa, her smiles were forced and his movie quotes uttered with less enthusiasm.

It's partially his fault that the issues between them are still standing. He should have broached the issue on the long flight back to Washington, but he didn't. There is a fine line between what should be done and what the smart thing to do is when it comes to her and this was one of those borderline battles. As far as he's concerned he made the right choice at the time. Ultimately, he knows it's up to her to address the tension between them; only she can forgive him for the sins he's committed, for the trauma he's caused their relationship. It's up to her to decide when or if she's ready for that, and it's up to her to decide whether she wants to talk about what he fathoms she's been through.

But now he is questioning whether the course he chose to take will pan out positively for him, for them. Because from his seat on the sideline, she looks like she's recovered. She holds conversations with McGee and Gibbs easily. He knows she wants to come back to NCIS, to be a real agent. She walks around with the form of pride she's always had, even if he can detect slight loss of sparkle in her mahogany eyes. The only time he ever seems her personality flicker to the cooler side is with him. Other than that she seems to have ridden out the storm.

And to be honest, that scares the hell out of him, because he's still amidst the wind and the rain; still harboring the guilt and trying to make things right. He can only pray that she doesn't leave him behind, because without her his fate is undeniable.

* * *

**A/N:** I need some help from my readers. Chapter 9 will be the last chapter and I am kind of stuck on which lyrics to guide my writing with. Either one, doesn't really change the direction the endings goes, but it really reflects the true essence of the story and who better than the readers to give me a feel for which one represents the direction story as a whole is going. So the options are below, please review and let me know your opinions!

_I'm fallin' in love, but it's fallin' apart. I need to find my way back to the start. When we were in love. Oh things were better than they are. Let me back into your arms._- The Maine

_I'll be by your side, wherever you fall. In the dead of night. Whenever you call. And please don't fight these hands that are holding you._ –Tenth Avenue North

Much Thanks :)


	8. Facade Part II

**A/N:** The end is near…only one more chapter after this one. Closure feels good!

**Disclaimer:** I'm the king of wishful thinking…but it doesn't change the fact that I don't own NCIS…Or the lyrics to "She's Gonna Make it" by Garth Brooks.

* * *

_You know it's not like she's forgot about it  
She's just dealin' with the pain  
And the fact that she's survived so well without him You know it's drivin' him insane  
And the crazy thing about it,  
Is she'd take him back  
But the fool in him that walked out  
Is the fool that just won't ask._

"_She's Gonna Make it" – Garth Brooks

* * *

_

**Façade (Part II)**

She can't help but feel the tell-tale signs of a satirical grin pull at her solemn features. He thinks he is being so subtle by waiting until she strides around the corner to let his eyes follow the rest of the way to Vance's office. In the case of any other person, he would probably get away with it, but not with her. She's always had this sixth sense of sorts that warned her that he was watching, and it has only gotten stronger in the weeks she's been back. Usually, depending on his mood, these stares are accompanied by a nonchalant movie reference, witty remark or charming compliment.

When none of those come, she is reverted back to the paralyzing thought that usual doesn't exist between them anymore. What she used to know as usual has been amended by harsh words and unresolved issues, followed by two months of aberrant separation. Since they freed her from her dust-bitten cell and brought her back home, she has been running on autopilot. Simply going through the motions of everyday life cannot describe her current state. Because those motion used to included in-depth conversations, satirical or intellectual, charming smiles, and corrections of her idioms. Now, they are substituted with forced small talk, tight smiles, and ignorance of grammar mistakes.

But it's only with him. Her relationships with McGee and Gibbs have suffered little exacerbation. He knows that and he sees that, she is sure. In turn she can see that it's tearing him up inside. It's the little changes in his demeanor that tip her off; the greater attention he shows at work, the limited wise-cracks, the lack of earned Gibbs' slaps, and the absent mischievous glint in his emerald green eyes. But she has been too wrapped up in dealing with her own pain, that she can't bring herself to meddle in his. For the greater part of the last few weeks she's focused on ignoring her pain and seeing right through his. It's easier to cope that way.

That's why, in these moments, she wishes he'd come to her; she wishes he'd make her talk about it and deal with it. He always did have a methodical yet alluring way of coaxing her to deal with her problems. She knows that with a few minutes of stern persuasion she'd break.

But she also knows that a great deal of this is her fault. He won't come to her, not because he's a fool or he's stubborn, but because he did try. Two months ago. Outside a building in Tele Aviv. And all she did in return was hold a gun to his chest and lie to him, swearing she'd never trust him when it was herself she didn't trust.

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**A/N:** PS...Remember, this chapter takes place before Abby puts Ziva in her place.


	9. Closure

**A/N:** It's been a nice journey, and finally we have come to the end. This is the final chapter and it takes place following Abby's little lecture and the bathroom conversation. BUT it takes place before the end of Reunion. The scene is set the night before Tony and Tim come into NCIS and find out that Ziva is back. It's written a little different, and I think it's fitting considering this is the culmination of the whole story. Third person, no specific character-focus, and has lot's more dialogue! And the winning song was "By Your Side" by Tenth Avenue North.

Thank you to ALL my readers who showed such great support and stuck with the story even when I had a little drought in updating at the start of the school year! I appreciate it to no end!

This took me forever to get write, so I hope it lives up to expectations.

**Disclaimer:** Even in the end, I still come up empty. I have no claim whatsoever on NCIS, its characters, or the song by Tenth Avenue North.

* * *

_Let me lift up your face  
Just don't turn away_

_I'll be by your side  
Wherever you fall  
In the dead of night  
Whenever you call  
And please don't fight  
These hands that are holding you  
My hands are holding you._

"_By Your Side" – Tenth Avenue North

* * *

_

**Closure**

She's not completely sure why she is here. Mere hours ago she had sincerely apologized in the middle of the men's bathroom. Maybe it is Abby's words still ringing in her ears, or the emotional tidal wave that had crept up in Gibbs's basement and was now threatening to unleash itself. Whatever it is has her thinking that her earlier words may not have been enough. And that's the closest thing to an explanation she can provide as to why she is standing outside his apartment door as the clock is nearing midnight.

It takes her approximately nine minutes and thirty-three seconds of bringing her hand up to the door and pulling back again, for her to work up the courage to actually make contact with the wooden surface. She raps on the door sharply three times, and waits anxiously as she hears his quiet footsteps padding towards the door.

"Wow, Jules, I didn't expect you to…Ziva." Tony's words trail off as he breathes her name in surprise.

Ziva hadn't been expecting to answer the door so quickly, but also she hadn't expected him to be waiting on another woman. She's sure he can see her face falter, even as she does her best to keep her composure. "Oh, I'm sorry. This is probably a bad time. I should have never…," she stutters as she tries to think of an excuse to get her away from this awkward, painful situation, but all of her training in smooth-talking is failing her. The fail-safe option her is to turn and walk away, which she begins to do but his voice stops her.

"Ziva David." It's Tony's voice, saying her name a way only he can. It's neither a command nor a request; instead it lies somewhere in between, all the while rendering her powerless to do anything but stare at him. "Stay right here."

Her shoulders visibly sag and he can tell she's given in. That's a step in the right direction. He's not exactly sure why she is here, but he knows her; he knows that getting her here, outside his door after what they had been through, took a lot of courage on her part. There is no way in hell he is simply going to let her leave.

She watches him walk across the empty corridor and knock on an adjacent apartment door. It opens a crack before opening wider, and a curly, blonde haired little girl stuck her head out. Her eyes light up and a smile fans her chubby face as Tony kneels down to her eye level. "Hey Aubrey, can you give this to Mommy and Daddy?" It is only then that Ziva notices the small, zip-lock bag of sugar that Tony has in his grasp. Embarrassment rained over her as she realizes that Tony had been waiting for his neighbor not some other woman.

The little girl eagerly reaches out her hand to take the sugar from Tony, and nods enthusiastically. Tony winks at her, and plasters on his charming smile, "And make sure to make extra cookies. You know how much Mr. Ant likes them!" That earns Tony a laugh and a kiss from the munchkin, before she bounces back into the apartment.

Ziva lowers her head, suddenly finding a spot on the carpet entertaining, as Tony makes his way back over to where she is standing. She looks up as he stands in his open doorway and they share a look of solemn understanding, which leads to her making her measured way into his apartment. Despite the uncomforting circumstances and a few months absence, she moves swiftly around the room and takes a seat on the far end of the couch.

He posture is straight and uptight, unlike the numerous other encounters they have shared in this very living room. Usually, she would make herself at home; she'd bypass the couch for the kitchen, grab a beer and, upon returning, would make his leather couch her own lounging haven. Tonight, he knows will be different so he takes it upon himself to be the courteous host, "Would you like an anything to drink? I've got beer and a new bottle of wine that I know you like. Or I have soda."

She offers him a tight smile at the gesture; he's trying. And on any other night she would have been the gracious guest and taken a glass of the rich, red wine he was referring to, but tonight is not any normal night. Courage and nerves got her to this very seat on his couch, and those same things will get her through this conversation. Something this delicate should not and cannot be altered by the effects of alcohol or caffeine, no matter how much strength she could use. "Thank you, Tony, but I am fine."

Tony offers her a nod in understanding before moving to the recliner aside the couch. He knows better than to get to close. The conversation they had shared earlier in the day had done wonders in restoration, but their flowering relationship was still fragile; she was and always will be fragile to him. "So what's on your mind, Miss David?" Usually he'd offer up a witty comment and make a joke about pretty girls ending up outside his door at odd hours of the night, but not now. Instead his question is gentle; it is neither provoking nor sentimental, and only offers up the concern of a friend.

"I owe you an apology, Tony," Ziva begins without hesitation. She needs to start immediately, get it out into the open before she completely backs down.

Tony smiles weakly and chuckles softly, "Zi, you already apologized early, and in the men's bathroom may I remind you. And it was an apology that wasn't really necessary."

"Tony, you deserve more than that."

"Ziva, you don't owe me anything," Tony explains his voice clear.

Ziva sighs, battling an inward struggle, obviously unsure of how to move forward. It's not easy for her, and she knows he knows that, but he is not making it any easier for her. "Tony, please stop. Please let me say what I have to say; what you deserve to hear."

Her words are laced with such a mixture of desperation and appeal that he cannot find a response. His silence provokes her to continue. "You asked me early how I knew what to say after I had said I didn't know what to say…if that makes any sense at all. I'm not sure I did know what to say at the time, but I think I know now. Tony, you saved me. Despite our fight, my leaving and my assumed death, you believed in me. I am not sure how, but you convinced everyone at NCIS to come look for me long after they thought I was gone. You risked your job and your life to run all the way to Africa on a wild chicken chase –"

"Goose. It was a 'goose' chase," Tony interrupts without even thinking; it's a habit far too imbedded within him to break.

She glares at him, tears starting to form in her mahogany eyes, before continuing. "I have never known someone to do something like that for me. It is not a part of the world I come from; in Mossad it is every man, or woman, for himself. Since all of this started, I'm not sure I fully understood what you have done for me, even with Michael, before I talked with Abby and Gibbs. Now I do, or at least I believe I have a pretty good grasp on it. Tony, I will forever be indebted to you. You saved my life. I don't know how to thank you for that."

Her last few words were muffled by the silent tears that were now streaming down her tanned cheeks. Silence befell the room for the few short moments it took Tony to form his reply. "Ziva David, you are my partner," he began as though it was the simplest explanation in the world. He reached out his hand and grasped hers, "You have been my partner from day one. That means something; that means everything. No matter what shit goes down or what kind of fight we have, I still have your back. It is my job to have your six, whether you always appreciate it or not. I know you didn't understand, and you might not completely forgive me for my actions, but I did what I had to do for you, my partner. And I would do it all over again, in a heartbeat; and that includes the wild goose chase. Because you sitting here across from me, alive, is the only thing that matters. You are my partner. And as my partner, you do not need to apologize to me."

"Tony," Ziva breathes, his name spilling from her lips in a way that seemed almost foreign to his ears. He has never seem her so vulnerable, so open.

By instinct, he moves from the recliner to take a seat beside her on the couch. Taking his chances, he wraps an arm around her shoulders pulling her into his side and leaning back into the couch. To his surprise she turns her head into her shoulders and lets her tears fall freely. He doesn't question the moment; he only embraces this chance to be there for her, as her partner and her friend.

His hands stroke her dark locks, and places a light kiss into the strands. "Just let it out. I'm going to be here, I'm not leaving. Tomorrow's a new day. You are going to be alright. We are going to be alright."

xx

They stay like that the rest of the night, until she is asleep on his shoulder and snoring peacefully. It won't be easy, getting back to where they were before last spring. It is going to take work, but tonight they took a very large leap. And he will be here for her when she needs to talk about what happened; when she's ready to open up, his arms will be just as wide.

And in the morning, after he get's coffee with McGee, she's sitting there at her desk ready to start fresh. He gives her a warm, knowing smile and she graciously returns it with the same underlying understanding.

It's then that they both know things are moving forward. And it feels good.


End file.
